..never knows what’s around the corner…
For more entries to this WPC, see The Daily Post.
Tag Archives: vicissitudes
Unsung Heroes
Vilakazi,
in the riots of ’76,
Henderson,
in the shadows of ’77,
Bailey,
through the dark and bitter end:
Not sacrificing themselves
for a cause,
these ordinary men,
just rescuing
our hopes,
one act at a time.
Photo by RIP – © beeblu
A view from above
Thinking of the people of America as they recover from this devastating event.
Neoplasia
The Song Remains the Same
Image via http://www.sxc.hu
We were cigar-smoking sylphs,
we were angst-ridden waifs,
not quite role-model material
We were The Clash and The Cure,
Lena-Lovich demure,
but never Nirvana funereal
We were Flashdance and Fame,
we were Grease, Purple Rain,
not Dolly-sweet 9 to 5vers
We were Wham, All That Jazz,
Chorus Line razzmatazz,
Saturday Night Fever survivors
We were pathological humour,
the kohl-girls of rumour,
but never drug-addled chic
We were Dark Side of the Moon
and Kate Bush la lune,
living The Dreaming mystique
We were polka-dot punkers,
Spandau Ballerinas,
not tattooed suicide-grunge,
Twisted Sister crazies,
You were Thelma, I, Louise
But,
in the end,
only you
took that plunge
The Bird
Image via http://www.sxc.hu
The bird
doesn’t mind
the indifference
of passing feet,
tossed flint-eyed scraps,
nest of a broadsheet
The bird
doesn’t mind
cold-hearted weather,
garbage-can dining,
piss-soaked shelter,
one-eyed sleep in the underpass,
the ubiquitous predator
The bird
doesn’t mind
existence
on the streets
He’s just a bird
In the Ring
Like a champion, he takes the blows,
And they keep on coming,
left, right, uppercut, and…
(Commentator) “Ohhh, that was dirty, but LIFE
hasn’t blown his whistle!”
..punch-drunk, reeling, but he’ll not lie
down for a TKO –
never give the schadenfreude crowd
their satisfaction
Punchlined
Indigence,
an unwanted embrace
choking dignity’s oxygen
squeezing anger’s slow burn
crushing joy’s heart
Ah, but there it is
in the flatlining curiosity
of hollow eyes:
that faint pulse of hope
Nature’s little joke
Stormy weather
at times
we’re like babes
in the woods
but out in a boat
tethered together
barely afloat
hurricane-flayed sea
our dreams overboard
I cling to you and you to me
but calm will come
we’ll get our wish
and sunken treasures
amongst starfish
Things my father told me – II
That man
hole-shoed, snot-coated
ferreting there
milk-eyed, maggott-bloated
whose upturned palms
putrid-toothed, hopeless-hearted
you gave no quarter
vomit-grimaced, joy-departed
because “he’ll just blow it on meths” –
That man
used to run the World Bank.
beeblu blog 
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